Meeting of the Minds
by Lament
Summary: Banshee and Emma meet up on the psychic plane.


Disclaimer:  I don't own'em.  They belong to Marvel.  I'm not making any money.  

Meeting of the Minds

            Sean Cassidy opened his eyes and gazed sleepily at his surroundings.  It was a beautiful day. The sky above him was a brilliant blue, the grass beneath him a flawless green.  He pushed himself up off the ground and strolled curiously about the landscape, stopping in front of a stream filled with water as clear as he'd ever seen.  Sean furrowed his brow.  He was in Ireland, on his very own property; that much was clear.  But it hadn't looked like this in years.  He'd spent so much time on the road that he hadn't put much effort into maintaining the grounds.  And besides, he was standing deep in the woods behind his castle.  Why was he here?  He remembered going to bed.  Then suddenly, he was here.

            He turned himself slowly around, his eyes scanning the area.  "Well, ye didn't just magically appear here Sean, m'boy," he said out loud. Sean paused at the sound of his own voice. Mystique had cut him only a few months ago. He was healing, to be sure; but this was a little much.  _I shouldna be able to talk this well, he thought.  __Unless m'voice magically healed too. __ Frowning, Sean ran his fingers gingerly along his throat.  __No scar.  _I must be dreamin'_. As realization suddenly dawned, Sean laughed to himself, and then yelled, "Emma!  Where are ye woman?"_

            "Not so loud, darling," said a syrupy voice.  

            Sean spun around to find himself facing Emma Frost.  She was dressed in a flowing white dress, and had a sweater draped over one arm.  One stray blond hair fell gracefully across her face.  Sean smiled slightly, in spite of himself.  "I thought I told ye t'stay outta my mind," he challenged.

            "We're in my mind, actually," Emma said, smiling sweetly.  "Lovely day."

            "I don't think ye thought up this landscape all on yer own."  Sean took a step forward.  "This is right outta my childhood memories."

            Emma bent down and plucked up a flower.  Sniffing it, she sighed.  "Well, I might've taken a little stroll.  Lighten up, darling."

            "Why've ye brought me here?"

            Emma lowered herself onto the light blue blanket that had suddenly appeared on the ground beside them.  "I would've called, but I didn't think you'd be very chatty."

            "I'm getting' a bit better," Sean said, dropping himself on the blanket.  "I can whisper."

            Emma opened a picnic basket.  "I've brought chicken, lemonade, and a chocolate pie."  She poured Sean a glass of lemonade.  Handing him the glass, she said, "You shouldn't strain your voice.  You _do _want to heal properly."

            "Chocolate?" Sean asked, peering curiously into the basket.      

            "Did you hear what I said about healing properly?"

            "Yes, Em."  Sean leaned back, supporting himself on his elbows.  "Doesn't matter much, does it?  I'm pretty much done in the mutant police business."  Sean grimaced, remembering his involvement in X-Corps.  

            "That wasn't one of your better ideas," Emma said casually, sipping her lemonade.  "Without me to advise you…"  

            Sean shrugged.  "I wasn't in my right state o' mind.  Still, I shoulda known better."  He shook his head angrily.  "I'm an idiot."

            "Oh, stop whining.  It's not as though you're the first person to make a mistake."

            "This was a big one." Sean said softly.

            "I could read you a laundry list of X-Men who have made bigger mistakes." Emma stretched out on her side.  "Really, this pales in comparison to most of your teammates."

            Sean gazed into the distance. "Former teammates."

            "Right.  You're going to sit in your nice castle and brood."  Emma lazily pulled ran her finger through the grass at the edge of the blanket.  

            "Ah, Emma." Sean took a swig of his lemonade.  "They're not going to want me back."

            "Oh, please.  They've welcomed me.  And honestly.  How many times has Logan screwed up?"  Emma reached over and pulled a leaf off of Sean's brown sweater.  "You're the one who's having trouble forgiving yourself."

            Sean narrowed his eyes.  "There's a lot of truth to that."

            "I happen to know that Xavier asked you to move back to the mansion," Emma told him.

            Sitting up, Sean sighed and rested his chin on his knees.  "I'm not ready."

            Emma sat up and tilted her head so that she was looking into Sean's eyes. "There are a lot of people who want you to come home."

            "Are you one of 'em?"

            "Yes."  

            Sean grimaced.  "Jubie sent me a letter, ye know.  Told me about you…goin' to pieces."

            Emma let out a breath.  "Well, fortunately, Hank has a lot of patience and no social life.  He managed to put me back together."

            Reaching into the basket for a piece of chicken, Sean frowned. "What brought this about?  Sleep with somebody's husband?"  

            "Not technically."  She stared at the ground.  "I had a psychic… indiscretion with Scott Summers."

            Sean's eyes grew wide.  "Ouch.  Jean's not the one who…ye know."

            "Of course not," Emma answered.  "Granted, she wasn't happy with me.  But no, she's not the one who shot me."

            "Why on Earth did you have a _fling_ with Scott?"  Sean was affronted by this new information.  

            "I honestly don't have a good answer," Emma said in a frail voice.

            "Do you love him?" Sean asked.

            "Perhaps I do."

            Sean stood up and began to pace.  He was suddenly agitated.  "What was goin' through your mind, woman?  He's a married man."

            Emma pulled her sweater on. "Yes, well.  I seem to always fall for men I can't have."  

            "What's that supposed to mean?" 

            Emma didn't answer.  She wandered toward the stream.  Pulling off her shoes, she placed a toe in the water.  "Chilly," she murmured finally.

            "It's _your mind.  Heat the water up."  Sean walked over and stood beside her.  "What did you mean, Em?  About fallin' for men ye canna have?"_

            She regarded him almost sternly.  "Well, I couldn't very well have you, could I?"

"I don't recall bein' asked," Sean said quietly.

Emma sighed. "Moira was ill. Even I'm the kind of woman to pounce on a man whose lady love is dying."  She stared at him, nervously playing with a strand of her hair.  "You know, you were my first real friend." Emma paused, and then added, "You're a vital part of my life."

Sean placed a hand on her shoulder.  "As you are in mine."

"So, move to the bloody mansion, Sean," she said, knocking Sean's hand away. "I need you."

Smiling, Sean placed a kiss on Emma's forehead.  He started to speak, but no words came out… 

***

Opening his eyes, Sean heard a loud pounding in the distance.  Blinking, he realized he was back in his bedroom.  He cocked his head drowsily toward the sound.  Eventually, the heavy wooden door to his bedroom swung open to reveal Jamie Maddrox.

"Hey, Sean.  You want breakfast?"  Jamie wondered.

Sean nodded.  He reached his hand up to feel the jagged scar on his throat.

"You all right?" Jamie asked, concerned.

"Yeah," Sean whispered.  "I'll be right down."

After Jamie left, Sean stretched and sat up in bed.  _Emma, if ye can hear me…I'll think about.  He frowned as he stood up.  _And stop messin' wit' my mind_.  _

_It was my mind, darling_, he heard Emma say.

Grinning, Sean headed out the door and down the stairs to his kitchen.


End file.
